Thorin and Talaitha One-Shots
by Viktoria7
Summary: Set after the events of Soul Healing, this series of one-shots follows Thorin and Talaitha's relationship-the good, the bad, and the smutty. Timeline will jump, but it's linear (i.e. no forward-back shifts). Rated M for a reason. Recommended that you read Soul Healing first, as this series contains spoilers.
1. Part I

Well, here it is! The very first, official Talarin one-shot. This one happens to be set directly after the final chapter of _Soul Healing_ (i.e. Talaitha and Thorin are still in Nemere), but the others will inevitably have time-jumps.

The idea for this one-shot actually came from LianaDare8. Talaitha just got a bit carried away. *giggles* (Hint: It's rated **M**)

Images for this installment can be found on my profile (scroll down past _Soul Healing_'s images).

Since you were all so kind as to review _SH_'s last chapter, I'll respond here (funny how I just assume you're all reading this XD). You're all wonderful. *hugs*

BlackBaccaraRose: No sequel, not in the traditional sense, at least. This one-shot series could be thought of as one, though.

LianaDare8: Your wish is my command!

superhyperjan: Thank you. Not saying goodbye to this 'verse yet, though. :)

draegon-fire: HEAs. Aren't they just lovely?

Skatingfaery: Thank you!

Guest: I guess this can be thought of as a sequel of sorts?

kaia: THANK YOU. :D

BeatofHisHeart: Thank you! I hope you enjoy the first installment. :)

Just4Me: Thank you for sticking with _Soul Healing_ from the very beginning. You and a few others have, and that's remarkable to me. I do indeed have more in store for Talarin. ;)

An Echo In Time: I dish out large helpings of angst but wash them down with equally large helpings of sickly-sweet fluff. :)

EroSlackerMicha: I _definitely_ don't have another full-length story in me! Not a _Hobbit_ one, at least. :p

Forever Fanfiction Lover22: _Soul Healing_ is over, but there's more Thorin/Talaitha!

Little Gertrude: Wow, thank you. I do intend to keep writing; it's kind of inevitable in my field. XD

UnderRugSwept13: Ohhh, Kili and Fili. Well, Fili has his OC, but do you have an idea for Kili?

WolfishPennings: Meet the parents? *gulps* I'll try!

Beloved Daughter: Future projects. Well, this. And I have a Guy of Gisborne story in the works but currently only in my brain, lol. I hope to start writing it this month!

anna pantelarou: You're welcome! And thank you for reading. :)

meganbuttorff1982: Thanks!

xxxMadameMysteryxxx: This is kind of like a sequel, lol.

Nicci1234: I hope this doesn't disappoint!

Sesshomaru's Babydoll: Awwwwww, did she end up naming him Thorin? I can just imagine dwarf!Thorin's reaction to having a puppy named after him. XD And thank you, dear, for _Soul Healing_. *hugs*

Queen of Erebor: Thank you!

girl43: Thorin romping through the meadow...quite a sight, huh? And bless him, he studied up just so he could recognize her namesake flower. XD *hugs*

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Thorin, unless he's in relation to Talaitha, who I definitely do own.

* * *

You had Jesus on your breath,

And I caught him in mine;

Sweating our confessions,

The undone and the divine.

'Cause this is his body;

This is his love;

Such selfish prayers,

And I can't get enough.

"Bedroom Hymns" Florence + The Machine

**Part I: Dance**

Dusk is descending as they walk along the cobblestone streets, fingers loosely intertwined. Thorin could imagine more days like this, more carefree romps in the fields. He likes Nemere, and not only because it is Talaitha's home. He likes that the people are welcoming, even if they don't always speak a language he understands. He likes the food, the gold and green landscape, and how civilized Lelle is.

But most of all, he likes seeing Talaitha in her environment, as the guide, rather than as the visitor.

They stop in front of a small house whose sloping roof is adorned with green and yellow tiles. That color combination, he notices, is the most prevalent in the city, which is fitting, considering the island's reputation for healing.

"Is this the inn?" Thorin asks, bemused, because it doesn't seem large enough.

"Of course not. It's my home."

Talaitha sounds nervous, adding to Thorin's confusion. He squeezes her hand, unsure how else to react, and the gesture reassures her enough to unlock the door and lead him inside.

It's dim in the house. Thorin can only make out her silhouette as she flits about the room, rustling papers and occasionally banging things on tables. Then, candle after candle is lit, casting a warm, orange glow on the interior. The first thing he sees are her seven bookshelves, filled to the top with books. Some of them are in the Common Tongue, some in Elvish, but most are in Szila. His gaze moves to her twin daggers, which are displayed crisscrossed on the wall. Her sword is mounted on the opposite wall. It seems a shame for such fine weapons to be mere decoration, but Thorin supposes she has little use for them in Nemere. It's a bittersweet realization, reminding him that violence had been the backdrop for much of their relationship. Well, that would change now.

While Thorin continues to explore her home, flipping through some of the books he can read, Talaitha disappears into her bedroom. She's in there so long that Thorin begins to wonder if she's having second thoughts about their relationship, but just as he considers knocking on the door, it opens.

His jaw drops at the sight that greets him.

Talaitha is standing in the doorway, wearing a midriff-baring costume, like that of the dancers in the market square. Her hips sway as she walks towards him and guides him to a chair, moving away before he can reach out to touch her skin.

"You seemed intrigued by the dancers," she says, getting into position. "So I thought you'd like a private demonstration." Thorin swallows hard and nods. "Mind you, I haven't done this in a long time, but I think my body still remembers."

He watches, transfixed, as her hips begin to sway from side-to-side, then front-to-back in an undulating motion that makes her stomach ripple sensually. Her arms accentuate the supple motions, and, depending on the step, her gaze alternates between him and the floor. With her left foot in front of the right, she pushes her hips out and moves them in a circle, before swinging them around in a slow turn, the blue, layered skirt swishing enticingly around her calves. Her body is hard and soft, strong muscles flexing alongside seductive curves. He longs to touch, to feel that delicious undulation beneath his palms and against his body.

His legs part slightly, warm tendrils of desire snaking down to his groin. Talaitha comes nearer, agonizingly slowly, until she is standing within arms' reach. Somehow he restrains himself from touching, despite the twitch of his fingers. She places a hand on his thigh, and he instinctively spread his legs, allowing her to move between them. Talaitha leans forward, her breasts and bare stomach grazing his clothed chest, a jolt of arousal shooting through his body. His breath hitches when she circles her hips, turning slowly in the cage of his thighs. With her back to him, she bends forward, her arse dangerously close to his groin, tossing her hair as she rises.

"Is _this_ a part of the ceremonial dance, too?" he asks, his voice deep and rough.

Talaitha faces him and steps away, coaxing his legs together. "No," she replies, smiling wickedly. "But I think you'll like this even better."

Thorin's mouth goes dry when she straddles his lap, her thighs spread and her core pressing against him. She rotates her hips, mimicking her previous motion, but this time, he groans as she rocks against his half-hard member, which quickly grows to full hardness. His breeches are uncomfortably tight, and he shifts his hips in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. But all that does is send a jolt to his groin.

Talaitha is enjoying tormenting him far too much, her hands braced on his chest and a smirk on her lips. After months of abstinence, something snaps inside him, and he grips her waist, grinding her core against his thickness. It's his turn to smirk as he's rewarded with a sharp gasp.

"You have teased me long enough," he growls and surges up to kiss her. Their lips meet in a bruising encounter, his tongue seeking entrance almost immediately. It's passionate and rough and not at all how he'd planned this reunion to be. But they both have so many suppressed emotions-good and bad-that it's perfect.

He pushes up her skirt, cursing at how much fabric there is, and trails his hands up her bare thighs until they reach their apex. His fingers find moisture there, as they stroke her vagina, while his other hand rests on the small of her back. His thumb circles her clit, gently at first, picking up speed and pressure as her breathing grows increasingly ragged. He sees her approaching climax, but before she can reach it, she pushes his hand away and pulls his erection from his breeches.

He hisses when her hand wraps around the base, stroking along the length to the engorged head. Fluid leaks from the tip, and she spreads it as she circles the glans with her thumb. While she slowly brings him apart in her hand, she kisses him, her tongue swirling against his so sensually that it steals his breath. His nerve endings are on fire, and heat pools in his belly.

"I need you." Thorin intends for it to sound like a demand, but it's more akin to a plea. "Take me. I cannot endure this torment."

Talaitha complies, lifting onto her knees and holding him steady at her entrance. Their gazes lock as the head of his cock breaches her folds, and she slides down onto him. He groans at the tight, slick heat that envelopes him, so familiar yet almost foreign. There was a time when he thought he'd never experience this again.

He is completely sheathed, their pelvises touching, and he holds for a moment to enjoy the sensation. Thorin is blessed with both girth and length, as is wont of dwarves, but he feels even larger buried inside her, the tip of his erection brushing her cervix. She takes him, though, with only the slightest wince of pain.

"Move," she breathes, leaning forward to brace her hands on the back of the chair.

Thorin obliges, guiding her up with his hands on her hips, then thrusting up as he lowers her. He repeats the motion over and over, relishing in the way her lips part to emit the most gloriously soft sounds. In this position, her clit rubs against his pubic bone and his cock drags against the roof of her channel, sending bolts of desire through her.

As their pleasure builds, their coupling becomes more desperate, almost frantic. He pulls her against him, her arms wrapping around his neck to steady herself. Breaths mingle as they pant and exchange messy, open-mouthed kisses. Talaitha moans, as the new angle causes his cock to spear into that bundle of nerves, until her entire body tenses and her head falls back, exposing her pale neck to Thorin's greedy lips. She cries out, her inner walls clenching around him to bring him to his own release, which washes over him with a deep, loud moan. He pulls her down _hard_ as his seed fills her, hips jerking erratically.

Talaitha's hands move to the back of his head, holding him to her while he descends from his high. His breath is hot on her neck, and he tightens his arms around her, inhaling her scent. He feels warm and sated and like he's finally come home. It's something he never wants to go without again.

"I did not intend for that to happen," Talaitha quips, once they regain their composure.

Thorin pulls away just enough to see her face. "The best things are those which take you by surprise." He leans up to kiss her, his lips gentle now that his lust has been slaked.

"Like us, you mean?"

"Especially us," he smiles. "When I knocked on that green door, I had no idea my One stood behind it. But when I saw you curled up in that ridiculous armchair, I knew."

Talaitha laughs, her eyes shining with affection. "And I knew when I heard you sing."

He looks at her, his gaze simultaneously intense and soft.

"I have not done this before." His voice is tinged with uncertainty, mirroring his words. "But I believe I must ask your father's permission."

"My father's permission for what?" she questions. Thorin cups the back of her neck, and suddenly, she understands. "Oh. For _that_."

"Is it not a szelemér custom?"

"Not a custom, no. More like a choice. Some do it, some don't."

"And I suppose you would rather I not," he says wryly.

"Well, no. I mean, if you want to..."

Thorin's smile grows. "I shall not, then."

"But if it's dwarvish custom, you should."

"It is dwarvish custom," he affirms. "But we view women differently, especially since there are so few of them. Fathers cannot afford to marry off their daughters to dwarves who would treat them ill. That is why we have such long courtships."

Talaitha arches a brow. "So you mean that because szelemér women are more plentiful, we are expendable to our fathers?"

"That is not what I mean," he says pointedly. "You are more precious to me than anything-than any_one-_ in the world. But you are also your own woman, and the only permission I must ask is yours."

A smile tugs at her lips. How well he knew her.

"Will you marry me, Talaitha?"

With their lower halves still joined and slick with seeping fluids, it's not the most romantic of proposals, but it's fitting and intimate. It's unceremonious, simple, and almost a second thought. It's _them_, Talaitha realizes.

"Of course I will." She brushes a strand of sweat-damp hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his ear cuff. "But I thought that was understood when I said I'd return to Erebor with you."

"Hush, woman, or I'll change my mind," he grumbles and lightly pinches her side. Thorin knows she only teases, but he can't resist reciprocating.

He is rewarded with giggles, and he kisses her, catching her teeth instead of her lips. He grins and does it again, enjoying the way it makes her laugh harder.

Eventually, they move from the chair to the bedroom, where they repeat their earlier activities, until the growling of their stomachs becomes too insistent.


	2. Part II

I'm sorry this is (a day?) late. I had a lot of RL stuff due in the last week. The rest of February will be busy, too, but less so, I think. I _should_ be able to update the next part within a week, as usual.

A few things.

At this point, I feel like I should tell you a bit about the szelemér. They're really an amalgamation of Hungarian (language, names, mythology, architecture, some customs), Romani/Gypsy (customs, apparel), slight Indian/Turkish (apparel), and my feminist views (e.g. women's relative autonomy). Nemere is a large island (larger than the British Isles) situated off the southwest coast of Middle-earth, which accounts for its warm climate. If you look at a map of Middle-earth, it'd lay roughly between the Isen River and the Andrast Mountains.

**Tardos** is pronounced _Tar_-doshe (long 'o'). It's an ancient Hungarian name meaning "to remain." **Apu** is Szila (i.e. Hungarian) for "father" or an affection variant of it.

This chapter is partly a nod to WolfishPennings, who requested a "meet the parents" scene. I tried, haha.

Thank you to everyone who found and is reading this series. :)

LianaDare8: Any other requests? My mind's on a bit of a boring track, atm.

Nicci1234: "It's so typical of their relationship" I thought so, too. As for Fili and Nifha, they won't get their own parts, but they'll be included eventually in Talaitha and Thorin's! :)

kaia: Thank you! Read and see. :)

Karana92: Lol, you meant the first one-shot could've been Talaitha and Thorin's whole story? ;)

Just4Me: Funnily enough, the last chapter of _Soul_ _Healing_ was one of the first I'd written, and the proposal was supposed to be included in it. When I decided to do the one-shots, I saved it for the first of those, but when I'd written it initially, I hadn't really gotten to know Talaitha or Thorin yet, so it was pretty cliched. Then I started writing, and it just came to me literally as a "second thought." XD So I'm thrilled you thought it fit them!

Knight's Queen: Thank you. :) I plan to keep them coming!

laithano: Thanks. :) In my head, Fili and Nifha are adorable together! We'll get to them soon!

girl43: I'm glad you enjoyed it. :) Each part will have something sweet or something smutty or sometimes both. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I only own Talaitha and Tardos.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part II: Father-in-Law**

It isn't a difficult decision to marry Thorin. Talaitha loves him, after all, and she supposes it's the next, inevitable step in their story together. Marriage wouldn't really change anything between them, but it would certainly change everything for her. Besides legitimizing her position as king's consort, it would also make her queen. Which is something she has never wanted and has, in fact, always dreaded. She knew the consequences when she agreed to marry Thorin and had but one condition.

A traditional szelemér wedding before they leave Nemere.

Thorin has no idea what a traditional szelemér wedding entails, and that ignorance makes him nervous. All he knows is he's meant to give her a gift, something she can wear during the ceremony that symbolizes the bride to the groom. He considers something plant-related, perhaps incorporating her epithet flower, but it's too superficial. Something with a more personal meaning, then.

True to his dwarvish nature, jewelry is his next idea. Pieces with gold and silver circles, meant to resemble coins, seem to be common adornments in Nemere, so he decides to include some of those to symbolize her culture. He chooses a stone that embodies how he sees Talaitha, who she is to him, and gets to work, spending the entire day in Talaitha's father's blacksmith shop. Tardos doesn't make jewelry, but he nevertheless watches with a critical eye. When the necklace is finished, it's the most unique piece of jewelry Thorin has ever created, not only because szelemér styles are unlike any he's seen in Middle-earth, but also because every part of the necklace is infused with meaning.

And, dare he say, love.

"If I didn't know you made it, I'd think it was of szelemér craftsmanship," Tardos remarks, inspecting the necklace in the light.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

Tardos arches an eyebrow, and in that moment, Thorin realizes where Talaitha's penchant for the gesture comes from.

"Shouldn't _you_ know that?" The szelemér hands Thorin the necklace. "After all, you knew her well enough not to request my permission to marry her."

"I-"

"It was the right choice," Tardos assures, grasping Thorin's shoulder. "Though I must admit I was surprised when she told me. My daughter is not always forthcoming with personal information."

"So I have learned," Thorin smirks. "If she had her way, I would probably still not know she's a princess."

"No indeed," Tardos smiles. But Thorin sees something melancholic in the szelemér's eyes.

"I will take care of Talaitha," he promises. "You have my word as a king."

"I have little regard for kings," Tardos says.

"Then you have my word as the dwarf who loves your daughter."

"Good." The szelemér meets his gaze. "I may not always agree with Talaitha's choices, but I always trust her judgment. She loves you, and she is not one to fall in love on a whim."

The gentle warning is not lost on Thorin.

"Neither are dwarves," he replies. "When we do find love, it is for life."

"But you have loved another," Tardos says, watching the other carefully.

"I have and still do." Thorin pauses, waiting for the szelemér's reaction. But he merely nods and indicates for him to continue. "She died in the dragon attack, but even if she had lived, our future would have been uncertain."

"Yet a century later, you still love her." Tardos walks into the adjoining room and returns with two cups of a clear-colored liquid. Thorin doesn't need to ask to know it's alcohol, for the sharp scent reaches him before the cup does.

Tardos takes a swig, and Thorin follows suit. The alcohol is as strong as it smells, but as he swallows it, he tastes plum.

"It's a tradition to drink fruit brandy with the man who is to marry your daughter," the szelemér explains. "Can you love my daughter when there is already another in your heart?"

"My love for your daughter is different from my love for the other." Thorin takes another sip of the brandy, considering how to proceed. "It is stronger, for one, and I know it would have been even if Riva had survived. When I met Talaitha, I felt something I never have before. Not love, not immediately, but a sense of completeness."

Tardos' expression is unreadable as he says, "Then I am convinced."

Further conversation is prevented when the door of the shop opens and Talaitha walks in. Thorin quickly drops the necklace into his pocket. He intends to give it to her when they are alone, for he will not share its significance with anyone else.

"What are you two up to?" Talaitha asks suspiciously. She sniffs the contents of Thorin's cup and grimaces. "You gave him the worst one, Apu. Not that there's a _good_ brandy, but at least the apple is a bit less vile."

"It's the only one I had in the shop," Tardos says, smiling when Talaitha kisses his cheek. "But I have finished with your betrothed. You may whisk him away to plan the wedding."

He laughs as the grimace reappears on his daughter's face and Thorin's eyes widen.

"Even I wouldn't subject him to that," Talaitha replies, peering into her father's cup. She continues talking as she walks into the same room from which Tardos produced the brandy. "I wanted a simple wedding with just family and friends, but Uncle insists it must be grand." She returns bearing the bottle of plum brandy and a third cup.

"You _are_ a princess," Tardos reminds her, watching with raised brows as she not only refills his and Thorin's cups but also fills her own.

"What logic," Talaitha scoffs. She takes a drink and nearly chokes when the brandy burns a trail down her throat. Thorin rubs her back until her coughing subsides, finding her intolerance to the alcohol endearing. "And Anyu encourages him! She tried to make me choose colors today."

"Tried to?" Thorin questions.

"I told her to pick. She's better at those things than I am." Talaitha stares at her brandy, contemplating another swig, but pours it into Thorin's cup instead. "Thankfully, though, a lot of the important people Uncle wanted to invite wouldn't make it to Lelle in time."

"I can extend-"

"No," Talaitha snaps, glaring at Thorin. "You _can't_ extend your stay."

The dwarf shares an amused glance with Tardos, before he takes Talaitha's hand.

"You're right, of course."

She knows he's placating her, but she nevertheless feels some of the tension dissipate. Squeezing his hand, she says to her father, "I think I will whisk him away now, if you two are done bonding over alcohol."

"We are," Tardos nods. He kisses her forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Thorin bids him good night and allows Talaitha to lead him from the shop. It's nearly dark by the time they reach home.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, walking into the kitchen, as Thorin strips to his undershirt and breeches. "I bought a duck today."

He comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist.

"I am," he breathes against her neck. "But not for food."

"I think that brandy has gone to your head. Or...you know." Talaitha swats at his hand, but he doesn't release her. "Fine, then you're coming with me."

She moves about the kitchen, collecting vegetables and cookware, with Thorin shuffling behind her as she does so. His face remains buried in the crook of her neck the entire time, and it's a wonder he doesn't trip and send them crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs and potatoes.

"It's not the brandy," he says finally. "It's your scent. After you left, I slept on your pillow until it began to smell like me."

Talaitha leans into him and rests her hands atop his. "I wish I'd had the foresight to steal your pillow."

Thorin laughs as he nuzzles her neck again. "I have missed you, my ughvashâ."

"Good, then you can help me make dinner."

"I warn you, Dis says I am a terrible cook."

"You can peel the potatoes. That doesn't require cooking." She pulls away but hesitates before giving him the knife. "Do kings peel potatoes?"

"This one does." He takes the knife and catches her hand. "You forget that I have been the pauper prince for far longer than the king."

"So does that mean fifty years from now you won't peel potatoes anymore?"

"Aulë, help me," he sighs. "You are nearly as bad as Kili sometimes."

"But you love us."

"Aye," he murmurs, kissing her nose. "That I do."


	3. Part III

Well, the long-awaited wedding has arrived, and I hope it doesn't disappoint! I looked at Gypsy and folk Hungarian weddings for reference, but both tended to enjoy miming "bride-robbing" a bit too much for my taste. So I mostly went with my own creation. The bit about the groom not seeing the bride's dress is from Western culture, and the bit about the "marriage walk" is from folk/village Hungarian weddings. I think the ceremony reflects szelemér culture...or I hope it does! (I'd actually been dreading writing the wedding.)

In this story-verse, **Árpád** is the szelemér king and Talaitha's uncle (by marriage), but he was a real figure in Hungarian history whose name means "seed." He was the one who led the ancient Hungarians into Hungary in the 9th century AD. **ûrzud** means "sun" in Khuzdul.

Pictures of Talaitha's wedding dress and jewelry can be found on my profile. They're pretty, so look at them. :D

kaia: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

Queen of Erebor: I figured since Thorin's a blacksmith, he should actually make something for her finally. As for the potato-peeling, I honestly just wanted some domestic fluff for them. XD

Undertaker's Wife: Hmm...jealousy. I can do that, though I think the ship for one of Talaitha's ex-lovers has sailed. Would a dwarf suffice?

Knight's Queen: I'm so pleased you liked the shuffling bit! It almost didn't make it into the chapter, lol. I'd just rewatched the _Vicar of Dibley_ episodes in which Richard Armitage plays Harry Kennedy, the vicar's love interest, so I fear a bit of Harry may have crept into Thorin. :) Not that Harry shuffles behind Geraldine, but he just strikes me as the type who would.

BeatofHisHeart: Thank you! *hugs*

LianaDare8: Sadly, Bilbo and the Company are too far to reach Nemere in time for the wedding. It was a spur of the moment decision, and Thorin does need to get back to Erebor soon, since the journey takes months. BUT, there will inevitably be a dwarf wedding, which I think Bilbo will attend. ;)

Sesshomaru's Babydoll: If I do War of the Ring, I'd _probably_ be tampering with _LotR_, as Legolas has a better relationship with the dwarves in my story than he does in the book/film. So we'll see. Also, as I wrote how busy I was, I cringed, because I remembered you and how busy you are, too. XD

DanaFruit: Talaitha, thankfully, has no siblings. The less family I have to write, the better (I tend to be awkward)!

WolfishPennings: Yay! More family in this part, though not with her father. XD

girl43: Bilbo's completely out of their way, as they'd come ashore near Gondor, not the Shire. But Talaitha will see Bilbo again soon! I think...

**Disclaimer:** The fluff is strong with this one. (George Lucas gets most of the credit for that)

Enjoy!

* * *

She was the sun,

Shining upon the tomb of your hopes and dreams so frail;

He was the moon,

Painting you with its glow so vulnerable and pale.

"Funeral of Hearts" HIM

**Part III: The Sun and the Moon**

The morning of the wedding, Thorin is pacing Talaitha's kitchen, waiting for her to emerge from the bedroom. He will soon be whisked away by her male relatives so she can dress in privacy, for szelemér custom dictates that the man is not to see his bride in her wedding gown until the ceremony. Everyone will be watching his reaction, not only because he is not of their race, but also because Talaitha is well-respected. He realizes now that her desire to have a traditional szelemér wedding was about more than just tradition. It was for him to understand how she feels about marrying the king of Erebor. About the uncertainty of how their people will receive them. About the pressure of being one of the few to love outside their respective races. He understands why she'd hesitated, why she'd done as Dain demanded.

And he admires her all the more for it.

"You'll wear out the floor doing that."

Thorin looks up. Talaitha is standing in the doorway, clad in a white, satin dressing gown that leaves little to the imagination.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Her eyebrows furrow in concern, and Thorin immediately goes to her side.

"Never," he assures, stroking her cheek. "But I know now that the woman I am to marry is so much more than my lover. She is a healer, a daughter, a friend, a colleague." He brings her hand to his lips. "A princess."

Talaitha smiles. "Seeing me with my kin has made you think, then."

"Yes," says Thorin, withdrawing the necklace from his pocket. "And I think it's time I gave you this."

"You made this?" she asks, touching the gold, coin-like discs.

"I did."

"It's lapis lazuli." Talaitha looks up at him with an unreadable expression. "To the szelemér, it means-"

"Eternally faithful love." Thorin smiles warmly. "I did my research."

"Yes, you did," she agrees faintly. "May I?"

Talaitha turns around, moving her hair out of the way as he fastens the necklace around her neck. She places her hand over the gold pendant, as tears prickle her eyes.

"A sun," she whispers.

"A sun," he nods. "Because Nemere means 'meadows of the sun' in your language." His hand on her waist prompts her to face him again. "You are my sun, Talaitha. You have brightened my life from the moment you entered it. You have given me life, quite literally."

"Well, then," she says, running her fingers through Thorin's silver-streaked hair. "The sun must have her moon."

He kisses her, his lips moving tenderly with hers, but it doesn't last long. A knock at the door shatters the bliss.

"My family," Talaitha sighs. "You must go with the men."

"And you must remain with the women," he says, leaning his forehead against hers. "This custom is not so very different from ours."

"Good," she replies and kisses his nose. A second, more insistent knock follows. "Now go. Before my uncle orders someone to break down my door."

"I'm going," Thorin laughs. He steals one last kiss, then opens the door.

Her female relatives shuffle inside, while Thorin joins the men. He doesn't know where they're taking him, so he just follows along, garnering numerous curious glances from the passing szelemér, many of whom wave small, blue cloths at him. He's not sure if the attention is because he's a dwarf, or because the king of Nemere is walking through the city without his guards.

"Do you do this often?" Thorin asks.

"Do what?" Árpád regards him with amusement. "Walk through my city?"

"Unarmed."

"I do," the szelemér king replies. "Do you not interact freely with your people?"

"Of course," nods Thorin. "But I know not all kings do."

"Then they are not worthy of the responsibility."

Árpád stops at a market stall and buys a pastry for himself, his son, Thorin, and Talaitha's father. The shopkeep hesitates to accept the money, but Árpád closes her hand around the coins.

"A king can rule, but a city cannot thrive without its people."

"I see why Talaitha respects you so," Thorin remarks.

"And you," says Árpád, looking at the dwarf. "My niece is very dear to me, Thorin Oakenshield. She is young, but neither her parents nor I ever thought she would marry."

"I didn't either," Thorin replies wryly.

The king laughs. "Yet here you are, a dwarf on his marriage walk through a szelemér city."

"Marriage walk?" Thorin raises his eyebrows. "I thought I was merely being taken away so I wouldn't see Talaitha's gown."

"That, too," Árpád says. "It is tradition for the bride and groom to arrive separately after a long procession through the town. That is why the people are waving blue handkerchiefs at us."

Thorin glances at the group of children that's been following them since the market. Sure enough, like many of the other szelemér, the children are holding cloth pieces.

"Why blue?" Thorin asks.

"It is the color of honesty and loyalty," Árpád replies and waves at the children. "It symbolizes constancy and devotion, particularly in marriage." He smiles when Thorin takes the handkerchief a little girl offers him. "They have accepted you."

"How do they know I am the one to marry Talaitha?"

"You are the only dwarf, for one," says Árpád. "And you walk with her male relatives. Lelle is a close-knit city, and Talaitha, by virtue of her profession and position, is well-known."

"So she will do the same thing we are?"

Árpád nods. "We go through a lot of blue dye," he says seriously.

#

Thorin stands in the pavilion of the royal palace, beneath a white lilac tree, unable to take his gaze off the woman beside him. Not even Erebor restored could compare with the beauty of the sight before him. Talaitha's light blue gown is of traditional szelemér design and consists of a cropped top with sheer sleeves and a long, layered skirt that swirls around her feet when she walks. The sunlight glints off the golden embellishments and makes the blue jewels in her headdress sparkle. The necklace he'd made her fits with the blue theme, providing a calming contrast to the lighter shades.

Talaitha notices his expression and flashes him a dazzling smile. He forgets how to breathe.

Árpád addresses the guests, then indicates Thorin should take Talaitha's hand. He recites the ceremony first in Szila, to which Talaitha replies, then in the Common Tongue for Thorin. The vows differ slightly from those of the dwarves. Instead of the husband pledging to protect his wife, both partners promise to look after each other. There is no mention of serving, but remaining faithful is as important to the szelemér as it is to the dwarves. Whatever one partner agrees to, the others does, too, beginning the marriage on equal ground.

Talaitha and Thorin hold out their joined hands, as Árpád wraps a long swatch of blue fabric, decorated with their respective family emblems, around them. With their other hand, they take a wild strawberry off the plate and feed it to each other to symbolize that neither will attempt to "tame" the other, followed by a raspberry, symbolizing love and fertility.

The ceremony is short and simple, yet steeped in meaning. Once it is complete, Talaitha and Thorin walk, hands still joined, through the city, while the people throw flower petals and wave blue handkerchiefs at them. Unsurprisingly, the flowers are lilacs.

"Is the lilac important to the szelemér?" he asks Talaitha. They are approaching the palace again, where the celebration is to be held.

"Not particularly," she replies. "But it blooms in May, so it's quite abundant."

"The air is perfumed with it," he says, plucking a white petal from her hair. "The scent brings back memories."

Talaitha smiles fondly. "Thank you for agreeing to this. It means more to me than you know." She squeezes his hand. "And to my parents."

"I would do anything for you," he says, nuzzling into her neck. "And I have a surprise for you after the feast."

Talaitha pulls away to look at him. "Is it better than the surprise of finding you in the healing ward?"

"You didn't seem very pleased to see me at first, so perhaps," he replies. She begins to protest, but Thorin kisses her quiet. "I jest, my _û__rzud_. I know why you greeted me as you did."

Talaitha leans into him for a moment, to savor her time with him before they have to join the others. She knows they will be separated, then, for she would have to slip into the role of princess and meet the guests, many of whom only speak Szila.

But as if reading her thoughts, Thorin's hand tightens around hers. "You will not be alone."

She gives him a final smile and leads him into the gardens. True to his word, he never once leaves her side.

#

"Do you even know where you're going?"

Thorin grunts in what Talaitha assumes to be affirmation and walks faster through the forest. She hikes up her skirt to prevent it from catching in the brambles and hurries after him.

"It's just...you know...you got lost in Hobbiton."

"Because I'd never been there," he replies. "But I've been here."

It is only when Thorin glances back at Talaitha, as she struggles to navigate the forest in her dress, that he realizes the impracticality of his plan.

Well, that's easily remedied.

He hoists Talaitha into his arms and bends down to whisper against her lips. "This is better, is it not?"

"Infinitely," she smiles and kisses him. "Just don't get distracted and trip."

"I would never, for I carry the most precious cargo."

Talaitha rests her head against his chest. "Who knew under that gruff exterior was such a sweet dwarf."

"No one, I assure you," he says, with a half-smile. "Not even I."

The grass of the forest floor gives way to light purple flowers, which densely carpet the ground. Thorin finally sets Talaitha on her feet, but not before stealing another kiss. She gazes at their surroundings, her throat constricting with emotion.

"I used to come here as a child," she says softly, crouching down to touch the flowers. "This is where my mother and I would make up stories." She looks at Thorin, who is draping his cloak on the ground. "How did you know?"

"When you'd gone to work, I asked your mother where it was." He holds out his hand to her and guides her to sit on the cloak. "I thought we could create our own story tonight."

"There's a full moon," she says, glancing up into the night sky. "And it's particularly silver. I think the moon knows you're here and is trying to outshine you."

Thorin lies on his back, pulling her with him. His arm snakes around her waist, as she snuggles into his chest.

"Is it succeeding?"

"No," she says, threading her fingers through his silver-streaked hair. "It could never outshine you."

He trails a finger down her cheek and smiles. "Then I am relieved."


	4. Part IV

This is short, but I love it. Really, really love it.

Again, "ûrzud" means "sun" in Dwarvish.

Thank you for your continued interest in this couple. It warms my heart. :)

Knight's Queen: I'm glad I could make you smile! Yes, I do have a special place in my heart for John Standring, but in terms of acting and character, Lucas North is Richard's best, in my opinion. Though I obviously like Thorin, too, lol.

kaia: Yay, you liked the blue dye bit! It made me laugh when I wrote it. XD

girl43: More feels!

Undertaker's Wife: I've actually figured out a way to make Thorin jealous of a male szelemér's attentions towards Talaitha, but it won't come till later, not till they're back in Erebor. :)

Wolfish Pennings: :) :)

Queen of Erebor: I'm so glad you liked the wedding! I have mixed feelings about it-not about the wedding itself, just about the writing. It feels a bit _eh_ to me. As for research, I did do a lot...then I chucked it all and went with mostly my own creations, lol.

**Disclaimer:** This chapter is rated M for Mature and C for Cavity-inducing fluff. You've been warned. I only own half of Talarin.

Enjoy! I sure did while writing it. :)

* * *

**Part IV: Sleep-Warm**

The morning sunlight bounces off her hair, turning it a fiery copper color. He watches her sleep, listens to her steady breaths that gently flutter against his skin. She is lying on her side, face pillowed into his chest, the palm of one hand above his heart. Her other hand is tucked against her breasts, underneath her chin, and her smooth legs are tangled with his. She is beautiful, and she is his wife, if only by szelemér law. But he is content with that.

She stirs, moving her legs against his and snuggling closer into his warmth. But she is warm, too-deliciously so. Sleep-warm. She smells of lilacs and sunshine and the forest at night. She smells familiar and safe, like home yet not of his ancestral home. It is a new home, a spiritual home rather than a physical one.

It is Talaitha.

It is the woman who is peering up at him through sleepy, green eyes.

Thorin can't help but smile.

"Good morning, my _û__rzud_."

"Let's not leave this bed today," she says, tilting her head up to reach his lips.

He kisses her slowly, simply. There is no need to hurry now that they're together.

"I am amenable to that," he murmurs against her lips and kisses her again. Her arm wraps around his waist, tugging his lower body closer. He feels himself stirring, hardening, as their flesh touches. Thorin almost allows himself to get lost in Talaitha, until he remembers the night before.

"If you are too sore," he begins but breaks off when he sees her amused expression. "I only mean that our...activities were rather vigorous last night-"

"And this morning."

"-so if you would rather refrain now, I am fine with that."

"Thorin," she says, and he feels like a child being humored. "Part of the fun of staying in bed all day _is_ the sex. Of course I'm sore. But it is a pleasant soreness." She hitches her thigh over his, bringing her core into contact with his groin. "Especially when I remember _why_ I am sore."

He groans and grips her thigh, lightly grinding their pelvises together. "You are insatiable."

"Says the dwarf with the erection."

"I cannot help it," Thorin murmurs, nuzzling into her neck. He nips and sucks a light bruise against her pale skin. "I am helpless to resist you."

Talaitha guides his hand down to her womanhood, where his fingers quickly become slicked with her wetness.

"The feeling is mutual, then," she breathes.

"I will be gentle."

Those are his last coherent words before he captures her lips in a searing kiss. It is rough and passionate, a direct contrast to his hands on her breasts and core. Fingers toy with her nipples, stroke her folds, circle her clit. She takes his hardness into her hand, thumbs over the slit, spreads the translucent fluid gathering at the tip. Her motions mimic his, speeding up and slowing down when his do, building their mutual pleasure. He bucks into her hand when she gives a particularly effective twist, which coincides with two of his fingers finding her internal bundle of nerves.

They look at each other and, without words, guide his cock into her opening. Her soft hiss echoes his groan. He immediately stills, but her hand on his ass urges him to continue, until he is buried inside her and their pubic bones meld. It is bliss. It is heat and texture and tightness. It is familiar, yet he doesn't think he will ever tire of it.

"Move," she whispers against his lips.

He does, carefully at first, then with increasing confidence as her expression relaxes into one of pleasure. His thrusts are long, and with each one, he strikes that sensitive spot on her vaginal wall. Their breaths become pants, warm air ghosting over the other's lips. Fingers scrabble for purchase on shoulders, thighs, buttocks, and hips, unable to decide which expanse of skin to touch. Thorin's finally settle on her thigh, hitching it further onto his hip, while Talaitha's grip his shoulder. They are so close that her breasts are flush against his chest, the hair there teasing her nipples with every movement.

Their breathing grows erratic and mingles with their moans. His hips begin to lose their rhythm, as heat pools at the base of his spine. She clenches around him just as he reaches his peak with a grunt, followed by a deep groan. They mix with Talaitha's cry, as she falls over the edge, her inner muscles squeezing him until he is utterly spent.

They remain joined long after he has softened, sharing lazy kisses and touches. When they finally do separate, it is only for Talaitha to turn onto her other side and for Thorin to mold his body around hers.

They fall asleep like that, cocooned in the warmth of the sun, the blankets, and each other.


	5. Part V, Act I

This is just a little drabble, but I ended up liking the tone so much that I think I'll expand upon it in the next update, Part V, Act II. I really don't know dwarvish courtship or marriage rituals, so I made them up.

Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! *hugs* Missing some of my regulars from _Soul Healing_, though. :/

Knight's Queen: Oh boy...baby. It's coming...eventually.

kaia: Yes, great sex _is_ worth the soreness! Luckily for Talaitha, though, she's a tough one to impregnate. XD

Queen of Erebor: Thank you! I, too, quite liked that chapter. :)

leahgiselle: Thank you!

girl43: Thanks! You said cold shower _again_. Are you in the habit of taking cold showers even without smutty chapters? :p

LianaDare8: Hi! I've missed you. :)

**Disclaimer:** Mr. Tolkien, I'm sorry.

* * *

**Part V, Act I: The Month**

_Erebor_

It is a truth universally acknowledged that dwarves must abstain from sex for a month before marriage. Or it _would_ be such a truth, if one were a dwarf.

But Talaitha is nota dwarf. Ergo, Thorin's revelation during breakfast comes as a rude surprise.

"A month?" she asks, with wide eyes.

"A month," Thorin nods, watching her over the rim of his goblet.

"But we're already married," she says dryly.

"By szelemér law, but not by dwarvish law," he reminds her. "The abstinence symbolizes pre-marital chastity."

Talaitha snorts. "We're about as chaste as a tavern wench."

Thorin resists the urge to smile, both at her choice of phrase and at her attempts to circumvent the custom.

"Which is why the symbol of it is doubly important." He chews thoughtfully on a piece of bread. "It is like your procession through town and the blue handkerchiefs."

"Yes, but those are a walk and..._handkerchiefs_," she says, deadpan. "Not a complete abstinence from sex for 30 days."

"We have gone longer without sex."

"Only because we were always surrounded by dwarves and a hobbit," Talaitha replies. "And then because we were separated by a sea."

This time he does smile, fondly. "The month will pass quickly. You will see."

"You say that now, but you won't be so sanguine about this a week from now."

Thorin would scoff, if he were the type. "Before I met you, I'd been celibate for years. A month is nothing in comparison."

"Bold words for someone who's ripped many a garment trying to get it off me." She arches a brow and smirks. "But if you're so confident in your ability to resist me, let's play a little game."

"Go on," Thorin urges, watching with interest as Talaitha walks towards him.

"We continue on as before, sleeping in the same bed until the ceremony." She leans forward to whisper hotly in his ear. "Without sex, of course." Her lips brush his skin, sending a tingling warmth down his spine. "And we'll see how _hard_ your resolve is by the end of it."

He grabs her wrist and pulls her into his lap. "I think you'll find it quite hard."

"Are we speaking of your will..." She adjusts her position, her backside grazing a particularly sensitive area. "Or of something else?"

"My will, of course," he says calmly, but his hands tighten on her waist.

"Of course." She fidgets again, and it's all he can do not to groan. "You've nothing to worry about, then." Talaitha kisses his nose and vacates his lap. A wry smile forms on her lips when she sees the tenting of his breeches. "I'll see you at dinner, my love."

As Thorin watches her walk out of the room, he's sure she's deliberately exaggerating the sway of her hips. He looks down at his groin, and this time, he does groan.

If he's already this affected at the start of the month, he dreads to think how he'll manage the rest of it.


	6. Part V, Act II

Another update so soon? Why yes! I had some time and plenty of ideas.

I'm thrilled you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter. *dances* Thank you, as always. *hugs*

girl43: I put my money on Thorin being the first to break. XD And yes, Richard is extra smoldery as Thornton. :)

kaia: A challenge implies reward/punishment. Hmmm...you give me an idea. ;)

LianaDare8: Hi there! :D

BeatofHisHeart: Thank _you_. I was in the lab, breaking apart the teeth for my isotope research, when I read your reviews. I giggled and smiled and probably annoyed the girl I work with. XD

Knight's Queen:Oh yeah, _Union_. There will be a baby...or 7. Jk. Maybe. As for writing Thorin and Talaitha, I pull a Will Graham (sorry, I just watched the most recent _Hannibal _episode) and imagine myself in the room with them. *shrugs* What can I say? I'm a creeper. But really, most of my ideas for them come when I'm driving to work/campus or just waking up, lol.

Nicci1234: Thank you! Yes, poor Thorin. Poor Talaitha, too!

Jo: Thank you. :)

**Disclaimer:** If you don't hear from me in a week, it's because Thorin's snapped and kidnapped me. Send help. Actually...don't. (I only own Talaitha)

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Part V, Act II: The Fortnight**

Two weeks into their month of abstinence, Thorin reluctantly admits-only to himself, of course-that Talaitha was right. Each night they share his bed, and each night he can barely resist hiking up her nightdress and taking her. He's banished them to their respective sides, but they always manage to move closer to each other during the night. He's tried shoving a pillow in between them, but by morning, it is kicked to the end of the bed and her body is pressed into his. He's tried thinking about battles and orc blood and the stench of Goblin Town, but then Talaitha shifts and he gets a whiff of lilac.

His predicament has gotten so bad that he _hurts_.

And that's why Thorin is striding purposefully towards the kitchens, heedless of the curious glances of the passing dwarves. He stops at the doorway, hidden in the shadows, listening and watching.

"Now add the eggs and mix them together with the butter and flour," Talaitha instructs. She wipes her hands on her apron and watches Nifha combine the ingredients.

Dís appears in Thorin's view, carrying a bunch of chives. "Who did you say gave you this recipe?"

"A hobbit named Bilbo Baggins," Talaitha replies. "He was your brother's burglar."

"Fíli talks about him sometimes," says Nifha. She scoops the chopped chives into the batter and drops large spoonfuls of it onto the baking pans. "Mr. Baggins is a good friend of yours, is he not, Talaitha?"

"He is," the fairy smiles. "I miss him. And his cooking."

"Fortunately he doesn't keep his recipes secret, then," Nifha laughs. "But surely he will come for your wedding."

"He will, for both Thorin and me."

"My brother seems a changed dwarf since his quest," Dís muses, as she places the pans into the oven. "Although according to Balin, he is more like his old self, before Erebor was lost."

"Was I really so cantankerous?" Thorin asks, walking into the kitchen with a wry smile on his face.

Nifha bows her head in respect, but Dís just rolls her eyes.

"Almost always, especially when Father would make you go into the human towns for supplies," she says, blue eyes twinkling. "But you were always kind with me and your nephews."

"I'll bet you have some diverting stories of when Fíli and Kíli were dwarflings," Talaitha remarks.

"Horrifying stories, more like," Dís snorts. "They were little terrors. Kíli was always covered in mud and dust and leaves, and Fíli carried his wooden, toy sword _everywhere_ with him. He even slept with it, one arm around the sword and the other arm around Kíli."

Thorin chuckles. "I remember well. Kíli tried to take it once, so Fíli pulled his hair."

Nifha and Talaitha giggle.

"I'm surprised he did not do worse," says Dís, then to Nifha, "This is the dwarf you are courting, my dear. One who loves his weapons nearly as much as his woman."

The young she-dwarf blushes. "He _does_ sharpen his knives more frequently than necessary."

"But Fíli was also the more serious one, like you, Thorin." Dís smiles sadly. "Whereas Kíli is like Frerin." Thorin takes her hand, and her smile warms. "Remember when you used to take them to the woods? You'd return with half the forest in your hair."

"Because when Kíli would get tired, I'd put him up on my shoulders, and he'd pluck twigs and leaves and flowers from the trees," Thorin murmurs.

Talaitha grins. "Tell us more, Dís."

"Let's see," she says, thinking. "Oh! What about when Fíli was a baby and he knocked over his bowl of mashed sweet potatoes and-"

"Another time," Thorin cuts in. "We have...business in Dale." Then, before anyone can question his excuse, he takes Talaitha's hand and pulls her from the kitchen.

He leads Talaitha through the corridors and pushes her into a hidden alcove.

"This isn't Dale," she remarks, with an arched brow.

"Don't play coy," he retorts, and her response is muffled by his lips on hers.

The kiss is neither soft nor sweet, but hard and fueled by Thorin's sexual frustration. Talaitha returns the kiss with equal passion, parting her lips to allow his tongue access, but when his hands begin to roam over her body, she pulls away.

"The tradition."

Her lips are red and slightly swollen, and Thorin can't look away.

"Hang it," he growls and kisses her again.

This time, she lets his hands feel her body, cup her breasts through her dress, but when his lips trail down her neck, she pulls sharply on his hair and tugs his head up.

"It is not my tradition, but yours," she reminds him. By now her breathing has changed, and he can feel her heart beat just a little bit faster.

"I am king. I can change this custom." He tries to kiss her a third time, but she presses a finger to his lips. He licks it and sucks it into his mouth.

"Thorin!" she snaps, but there's a hint of a moan in her admonishment.

"Yes, my _û__rzud_?" He is smirking now, for he sees his desire reflected in her eyes.

"You said a month of abstinence would be nothing."

"I was wrong," he says, pulling her lower half against his. "So very, very wrong."

Talaitha's fingers grip his upper arms, as his erection prods her hip. "You need to go." She moves just enough to bring their pelvises in line, producing a delicious drag against the head of his clothed cock. "Go spar with Dwalin..." Her breath hitches when he grinds against her. "Or write a treaty..."

"Mmm," he rumbles, nosing below her ear. "A treaty granting me the right to explore much-coveted territory." He kisses her neck, nips her skin and soothes it with his tongue. "To claim the slopes and mounds and valleys as my own." Hands trail over her curves, fingers kneading into the soft flesh of her buttocks. "To _mount_ an expedition the likes of which has never been seen."

"Thorin." And this time, his name _is_ a moan.

He groans and is about to push her dress off her shoulders, when Talaitha regains her senses and slaps his arm away.

"We are adults," she says firmly. "Not lust-driven adolescents." But the throbbing in her nether regions suggests otherwise. "We will keep our desire in check until the wedding night."

Thorin scowls but heeds Talaitha's words.

"A husband who cannot touch his wife," he grumbles.

His scowl only deepens when Talaitha giggles.


	7. Part V, Act III

So, since less than a week has passed since my last update, it's safe to say that Thorin's not gone mad from unfulfilled lust and kidnapped me. Pity. Next part will be the _climax_, as it were.

I've an awful crick in my neck from all the time spent hunched in the lab working on teeth. But every time someone favorites, follows, and reviews this story, I take a much-needed break and do a little happy dance-literally, if I'm alone in the lab. So thank you, as always.

Just4Me: Poor Thorin indeed.

ozgea: Since the dwarvish ceremony will be rather quick, I hope this chapter suffices for Fili-Nifha interaction. :) I'm quite fond of them, too.

kaia: *rolls eyes* Dwarves and their traditions. Though I bet Thorin regrets it now. XD

girl43: Yes, I was inordinately proud of that "treaty" metaphor, lol, so I'm pleased you liked it. Ooooh, _Spooks_! I think you'll love Lucas. :)

Jo: I'm glad you think so, because I wrote it to be. Although, I hope you mean good-funny. ;)

BeatofHisHeart: Thank you! She sort of has to make him wait, though; it's the tradition, and although no one's going to monitor them, Talaitha sees the point. So does Thorin, when the cloud of lust clears. XD Yes, the wedding night. I've already mentally begun writing it. _Dear Lord_.

Knight's Queen: Your avatar references Tristan! I didn't put it together until you said you're a Mads fan. I like him, too. I like the roles he takes on; they're different, kind of like Richard's. I'm sure you've seen _The Hunt_. I really enjoyed his performance in that. And he's so cute with the little girl IRL! There will probably be more Fili, Kili, and Dis, actually. :)

: Poor Thorin is essentially a teenage dwarf after being celibate for so long before meeting Talaitha, haha.

**Disclaimer**: I only own Talaitha and Nifha.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part V, Act III: The Sennight**

In preparation for the wedding, Fíli and Kíli must learn how to dance. They are Erebor's crown princes, after all, and are expected to join the king and queen in a dance with their respective partners. When the brothers are informed of this, they attempt to escape to Dale and Lake Town and even to Mirkwood, but Thorin or Dwalin always manages to find them and drag them back.

That's why the brothers find themselves in one of Erebor's grand halls, moving rather uncertainly to a violinist's melody.

"Ouch, Fíli, that was my foot," Nifha complains. Sweet, patient Nifha, who looks decidedly _im_patient now.

"Sorry," he murmurs, staring down at his feet.

"Mind the column," Thorin warns, and Fíli nearly leads Nifha into it. "Look up, lad!"

Fíli does and steps on Nifha's foot again. "Sorry."

Kíli, who's faring far better than his brother, laughs. "Nifha, if you value your toes, you'll find another dwarf to court."

"Kiss an orc," the blond prince growls and swings Nifha around to glare at his brother. "The only reason you're better at this is because you have an elf's form."

"Say what you will, Fee, but Mother will be able to walk tonight."

"That's enough, Kíli," Dís scolds, squeezing his shoulder. "Fíli, let Nifha sit a while. I'll dance with you."

The dwarf maiden sighs in relief and moves to a chair along the periphery of the room. "Thank you, but are you sure that is wise?"

"You, too?" Fíli grumbles, as his mother takes his shoulder. They begin to dance, and Dís, who is more experienced than Nifha, helps guide his movements.

"I didn't mean it like that..." Nifha says, blushing.

"And who am I to dance with?" Kíli asks. He glances at Thorin, who arches a brow.

"With me."

Talaitha enters the room, her breeches and tunic a stark contrast to Dís' and Nifha's flowing skirts. She smiles at Thorin, and he swears that her eyes sparkle with mischief before she turns her attention to his nephew.

"It would be my pleasure, my lady," Kíli says, with a bow.

Talaitha plays along and dips into a curtsey, then takes the prince's proffered hand. As he leads her around the room, his motions are fluid and confident. He falters a little when he twirls her, his hand twisting awkwardly, but recovers quickly.

"You have a natural talent," she observes.

Kíli grins. "Hear that, Fee?"

The prince ignores the bait and concentrates on maintaining the three-beat rhythm. With Dís' help, he manages.

"It's not nice to gloat," Talaitha says, smirking at Thorin.

The king looks up, startled, at the sound of her voice. He'd been watching the graceful lines of Talaitha's body turn, bend, extend, and flex. Her tight breeches offer a particularly enticing view of her shapely legs, and he realizes that he hadn't imagined the mischief in her eyes.

"Take a break, Kíli," he says, offering his hand to Talaitha.

She accepts and looks up at him, challenging him. Their month-long vow of chastity had long ago become a competition, and today, less than a week before the wedding, there would be a reckoning.

Talaitha allows Thorin to lead her in a simple, four-beat dance. "You started without me."

Thorin tightens his hand around her waist, as his thumb strokes along her palm. "If we'd have waited too long, Fíli and Kíli might have disappeared again."

"I had to take Szélvész out." Her hand inches upwards on his shoulder to tug lightly on a lock of his hair.

"I know." He slowly pulls her closer. "But you're here now."

"I am." The hand on his shoulder briefly brushes his neck. "Fíli is struggling?"

"Aye, he was." Thorin's palm is warm on the small of her back. "But he's improving."

Talaitha tilts her head up, her breath fluttering against his lips. "And he's also glaring at Kíli."

"What do you expect?" Thorin leans slightly towards her. "Kíli is dancing far better with Nifha than he was."

Her body brushes against his, sending a jolt of arousal through them both. "Dís looks happy."

"She does." Thorin glances at his sister, who is laughing at something Fíli said. "She deserves it, for all I've put her through."

Talaitha's hand leaves his shoulder to cup his cheek. "Yes, but you brought her home and returned her sons to her."

"I brought her to Erebor, but _you_ returned her sons to her." Thorin closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Talaitha's, their movements slowing without their noticing. "I nearly took them away."

"But you didn't." She's still cupping his cheek, and her thumb grazes his bottom lip. He kisses it.

Unbeknownst to either of them, their actions have attracted an audience. Kíli is about to say something, but Nifha stands on his foot, quieting him.

"Talaitha," he breathes. "I-" She's so soft and warm in his arms that he can't think properly. But she knows what he couldn't say.

"Me too," she agrees. Heat flares through her, from her fingers to her toes, and centers in her belly.

"Can we call off the game now?" he asks.

Talaitha kisses his nose, and he's sure she'll consent. But then her pelvis touches his for the briefest second, teasing his half-hard member, and he knows the answer even before she gives it.

"Definitely not," she grins when he grimaces. "I'm enjoying being right far too much."

Thorin finally remembers that they are not alone in the room and puts some distance between Talaitha and himself. He leads her in a fast, four-beat dance that limits close bodily contact, just in case. Kíli looks away, his interest gone now that the tension between his uncle and his bride is mostly dissipated.

"Is this so easy for you, then?"

"No," Talaitha replies, with a slightly pained expression. "But as you said three weeks ago, it is tradition." Thorin twirls her, and she wishes she'd changed into a dress before coming here. "Besides, think of all these sensations building up. The release will be well worth the wait."

Thorin smirks. He _had_ thought of that. "The moment we are husband and wife...again..., I shall have you." He spins her out before pulling her close and murmuring, "In every way imaginable."

A shiver runs down Talaitha's spine, and her core throbs.

"By the Valar," she whispers. "These next few days had better pass swiftly."


	8. Part VI

I had some time, so I figured I'd write this part early. I'm quite proud of it, actually.

I don't describe Talaitha's wedding dress/jewels, but you can see them on my profile ("Talaitha's dwarvish wedding outfit from part 6"). Check it out.

girl43: Tension is released.

Knight's Queen: RA does dance tango; it's his favorite, apparently. That's a lovely image. :) I'm glad you enjoyed their dance!

Just4Me: I think their wedding is memorable. For Thorin, definitely.

kaia: Nifha picked the wrong brother. ;)

LianaDare8: Hmm, I think I can do that! Kittens, though, because I like them better than puppies.

ozgea: The wedding/wedding night was very Talarin (Thorin/Talaitha) centric. But we'll definitely see more Fili/Nifha interaction! And Kili, of course, because he's a cheeky bastard. XD

**Disclaimer: **Rated M. Rough sex warning, too. Also, italics are flashbacks.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chills, chills come racing down my spine,

Like a storm on my skin;

With shaking hands, I'll guide your sweet soul into mine,

Until I feel you within.

"Temple of Thought" Poets of the Fall

**Part VI: Union**

Thorin sits in a chair by the fire, clad only in his smallclothes, watching Talaitha sleep. He aches, and if he does, then so must she. He is exhausted and limp and thoroughly sated, but sleep eludes him. So he thinks instead. Thinks about where life has led him, where it will continue to lead him. Thinks about his naked wife, who is now also his queen. Thinks about their future children, his heirs, that they will displace Fíli and Kíli on the throne. But he doubts his nephews will protest, especially not Kíli.

And, as Talaitha shifts, the sheet slipping down to expose one, pale breast, he thinks about last night.

_"Thorin," Talaitha whispers, while the king's hand creeps slowly up her thigh. _

_He ignores her and continues his conversation with Dwalin, his hand not halting its trek up her leg. She turns her lower body away from him, but his hand lightly squeezes her thigh, and she nearly yelps in surprise. Bilbo is still talking to her, apparently oblivious to the events under the table, and though Talaitha tries to listen to him, she is becoming increasingly distracted. Thorin's fingers have now reached her core, grazing it but not applying pressure to it. Even that barest touch is enough to send pleasure shooting through her. _

_Well, two could play _that_ game. _

_He tenses imperceptibly when her own hand rests on his thigh, content to remain there for the moment. She takes another sip of wine, engaging dutifully with Bilbo's story about Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and begins to stroke his thigh. She feels the muscles flex and sees the discreet upturn of his lips. He does not move away. _

_But _she_ jerks when two of his fingers rub her clit through her gown. _

_"Are you well, Talaitha?" Bilbo asks, frowning. _

_"Just a hiccup," she lies. "Too much food, I think." By now, her palm is flat against Thorin's groin, its presence causing his cock to grow and harden quickly. Almost embarrassingly quickly. She hears his breathing change for a second and smiles. "Do continue about your relatives, Bilbo. You were about to tell me what Lobelia's son did in your absence."_

_While the hobbit regales her of how Lotho tried to sell his books, Talaitha slowly strokes Thorin through his fine, leather breeches. And, as with their month of abstinence, Thorin falters first, his hand ceasing its motions on her core. She squeezes him in triumph, and he chokes on his wine. _

Thorin smirks as he remembers how he dragged her away after that, bidding their guests a hasty farewell. Mercifully, his tunic covered his clearly-and painfully-erect cock, but Talaitha walked in front of him until they exited the banquet hall, just in case. They ran through the corridors and up the stairs, Talaitha clutching Thorin's hand and the bottom of her dress. They'd made it to their chambers but not to their bed.

_"Is the dwarvish wedding night always so feverish?" gasps Talaitha, as Thorin thrusts into her, pushing her roughly into the wall. Her gown is hiked up, bunching around her hips, and her legs are wrapped around his waist. _

_"Don't...know," he grunts and tightens his grip on her buttocks. The force and pace are just on the edge of punishing, and Talaitha can do little else but hold onto him as he moves almost painfully deeply inside her. _

_Her body and head swim with sensations and overwhelming pleasure. The angle is such that each powerful thrust hits her bundle of nerves, and she reaches a hand to her clit, rubbing it in time with Thorin's rhythm. Their coupling is savage and messy, and they share moans and pants and groans between wet, open-mouthed kisses. All the tension that had accumulated over the past month becomes unbearable. Her tight heat clamps down on him, his stones draw up towards his body, and he's only half-aware of her fingers on her core, brushing his cock with each stroke. _

_Neither lasts long, and as their orgasms hit them near-simultaneously, Talaitha cries out loudly and Thorin spills his seed inside her with a primal roar. _

Thorin feels himself stir at the memory and looks down. His exhausted body is apparently not as limp and sated as he'd thought.

_"You tore my gown, you brute," Talaitha scolds affectionately. She points to the rip on the neckline, trying to smooth down the abused lace. _

_"It has served its purpose," says Thorin, slowly untying the laces in the back. Despite his previous flippancy towards the garment, he removes it from Talaitha's body carefully and lays it over the back of a chair. He takes off her sapphire necklace and tiara, kissing along her collarbones as he does so. Bared to his smoldering gaze, she shivers. _

_"Mahal you are beautiful," he breathes, tracing the warm light the flickering flames cast upon her skin. "My wife. My queen." He picks her up and carries her to the bed, setting her down gently with a kiss. "I shall worship you tonight."_

_He showers her with love as he explores every inch of her body with his hands, lips, and tongue. He kisses a trail down her chest, over her hipbones, along the inside of her thighs. He swirls his tongue around her nipples, dips it into her navel, and sucks lightly where thigh meets pelvis. He turns her over, kisses her back and down her spine. He strokes up her thighs to her buttocks, kneading the soft flesh and placing gentle kisses on the bruises already forming there from their frantic coupling. A finger brushes along her vagina, still slick and sticky from their combined releases._

_Once Thorin has teased her long enough with his soft touches, she lies on her back, her copper hair fanning out around her on the pillow. The new bead in her hair draws his attention. _

_"It was a challenge carving your family's symbol into it," he says, feeling the intricate etchings beneath his fingers. _

_Talaitha reaches up and catches the swinging bead in his own hair. It is identical to hers, bearing both his and her families' runes. Made of mithril gifted to Thorin and Talaitha by Thranduil, the ornaments are marriage beads, intended to be worn until death parts them and after. Because dwarves are generally more protective of their spouses than are the szelemér, the beads are a visible marital status, warning away potential courtiers. Against her better judgment, Talaitha likes the bead; it's pretty, if one does not think too hard about the covetous meaning that underlies it. But it also symbolizes their union, the melding of not only two different families but of two different races, as well. And that meaning is by far the more beautiful. _

_"I don't think it's ever been on so small an object," she replies. "I wish I could have given you something, too. I fear I am in debt now."_

_Thorin smiles and strokes her cheek. "You have given me the greatest gift of all," he says, touching the silver Bead of Life woven intricately into her hair. "My life and my nephews' lives."_

_Tears sting her eyes when she remembers how close she had come to losing him, and before he can question her, she pulls his head down and kisses him. He feels a wet drop on his nose, as a tear slides down her cheek, and gathers her in his arms, pulling her as close as their positions will allow them. Her breasts are crushed to his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, his face buried in her hair. _

_And that's how he enters her, gently and slowly. Her thighs part for him, allowing him to slide in deeper, and when all of his length is safely sheathed inside her, he stills. In the frenzy of their "first time," he hadn't given her a chance to adjust to his length and girth before he pounded into her. This time, he would make love to her. _

_Thorin pulls away slightly to kiss down her neck and to caress her breasts. He suckles a nipple, watching in fascination as it pebbles when he lightly blows on it. He gives the other one the same attention, enjoying the way Talaitha arches up into him. The movement is felt by his erection, which twitches in anticipation. _

_Gathering her into his arms again, he finally, slowly, begins to move. They are joined, skin against skin, pelvis against pelvis, as close as two people can be. They kiss, deeply and hotly, their tongues sliding together, mimicking Thorin's rhythm. His thrusts are long and unhurried. It's more important to _feel_ one another completely than to reach climax. They hold each other's gazes, and one of Thorin's hands takes hers, pulling it up towards the headboard to intertwine their fingers. _

_They've unlocked a part of themselves and each other that no one else has seen or felt. A warmth suffuses them both, a rush of energy, and if Thorin thinks it's their souls melding, he wouldn't be far from the truth. _

_A familiar heat pools in their bellies, and soon after, their releases wash over them with blinding intensity, yet neither makes more noise than a hitched gasp. They watch the pleasure flash across the other's face, hold each other through the waves. When it's over, Thorin allows Talaitha to pull him down onto her, shielding her from his weight with one bent elbow. He nuzzles into her neck, lazily kissing it, as he waits for his heartbeat to return to normal. _

"Thorin?"

The soft, sleep-tinged voice draws him from his ruminations. Talaitha is sitting up, the sheets pooling at her waist, looking at him with furrowed brows. Her hair is messy, the braids long undone, and the marriage bead swings above her breast.

He smiles at the sight.

"Come here," he says quietly, holding out his arms.

She settles into his lap, her bare thighs on either side of his. By the fire, it is warm, and she leans into his chest with a contented sigh.

"I love you, Talaitha," he murmurs, holding her close.

"And I love you, Thorin."


	9. Part VII, Act I

Sorry I'm late. I had little energy and motivation to write, and when I did, I focused on rewriting parts of _Soul Healing_.

I believe it was Undertaker's Wife who asked for jealous Thorin. If you're still reading this series, here you go.

Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. I'm sorry I'm not more enthusiastic, but please don't doubt my sincerity. I'm just not really feeling Talarin lately, which might explain the timing of this chapter (which I actually kind of like).

BeatofHisHeart: I've seen that painting, but the baby Thorin's holding is his nephew (probably Kili). We can pretend, though. ;)

Queen of Erebor: I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

kaia: Lol, I'm sure everyone knew why Thorin and Talaitha rushed off. But the dwarves are probably used to it. XD

Just4Me: I'm not entirely sure it was their souls melding, though I suppose with their sharing a soul (a part of Talaitha's), it would make sense.

LianaDare8: Updated. Sorry it wasn't sooner. :/

**Disclaimer:** Rated M for sex and dubious consent. Tolkien is probably turning over in his grave.

* * *

Love can be as cold as a grave,

A one-way ticket to endless sorrow,

An empire of gentle hate,

Today without tomorrow.

"Circle of Fear" HIM

**Part VII, Part 1: Possession**

She's meeting with _him_ again. Etele. The only other szelemér in the region.

Thorin tries not to begrudge Talaitha the company of her kin, but their embrace that morning had been far too familiar for his liking. It had been close and long, and Etele had touched her fiery locks. Those curls were _Thorin's_ to touch.

He paces the balcony overlooking Dale, receiving curious glances from the guards posted along it. He ignores them, just as he ignores Dís when she chides him for his behavior. Etele is merely a friend, she reasons, a fellow szelemér far from home.

Thorin is not reassured.

So he paces, because that's what he does when he's troubled, and remembers. Talaitha had been skittish about their future in Erebor, especially about becoming queen. He worries Etele's arrival will exacerbate her bouts of homesickness and her doubts about queenship. She conceals the latter from others, but he knows her well enough by now to see through her composed front. He notices the little things she does, like immediately removing her crown after official events and insisting the royal honorifics be dropped. While others might attribute the first to practicality and the second to humility, Thorin understands them for what they are.

Discomfort.

Along with the fears comes jealousy, which flares when he watches Talaitha and Etele exchange cheek-kisses. He doesn't think as he storms from the balcony. He doesn't think as he wrenches open the massive door. And he _really_ doesn't think as he pulls Talaitha inside, leaving a perplexed Etele in his wake.

She struggles against his hold on her arm, but he doesn't stop walking until they're deep in the belly of Erebor. He pins her against the wall, not hard enough to injure but hard enough to shock. She exclaims when he rips the neckline of her blouse, but her words are lost on him, his mind focused on one thing. _Mark_.

Thorin sucks a harsh bruise into her skin, just above her left breast, while one hand fondles her right breast and the other hand trails up her thigh beneath her skirt. His fingers find her core, and she gasps, the stimulation too fast and too hard. But he doesn't relent. A finger stretches her, then two, and soon she is in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, skirt bunched at her hips.

A squeeze of her buttocks is the only warning she receives before he pushes into her, his cockhead stretching her far more than his fingers had. Her cry of pleasure and pain spurs him on, and he thrusts into her mercilessly, her blouse coming untucked from her skirt as her back slides against the wall.

With one hand supporting her, his other hand delves beneath her skirt again to rub her clit, his fingers maintaining their rhythm even when his hips lose theirs. She comes first, her body bowing forward with a moan, her muscles spasming around him to hasten his own release. His thrusts are short, almost uncontrolled, his hot breath rushing over her neck, his grunts ringing in her ears. She clenches, and he's burying himself deep and moaning hoarsely. There are teeth on her flesh, a sharp pain, a soothing tongue.

When it's over, Thorin sets her down carefully, tucks himself back into his breeches, reties the laces, and walks away. Talaitha is left standing there, her blouse torn and her dignity wounded. Yet instead of stinging with tears, her eyes blaze with anger.

She finds him in their chambers, clad in a clean pair of breeches.

"I am not some livestock to be branded," she hisses, pulling aside the neckline of her blouse to reveal the purple-black bruises. "Look at what you have done to me."

"I see it," Thorin says, eyeing his work with a smug smile.

Rage fills Talaitha and, before he can move away, she slaps him, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. He remembers the kisses she'd placed on Etele's cheek and is struck by the irony.

"If you _ever_ mark me like this again, you will regret it." Her eyes flash dangerously as his hand wraps around her wrists to prevent another slap. "I am not treasure to be possessed."

"But aren't you?" he asks derisively. "You married a dwarf, after all. It is in our nature to protect what is ours."

She wrenches her arm free, glaring at him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the gold sickness had returned."

"You are _mine_," Thorin growls, his lips inches from hers. He touches her marriage bead, thumbing over the etched design. "You lost your freedom to flirt with other males when you became my wife."

Talaitha reels back and winces as the sudden movement causes him to pull on her hair. "Is that what this is about?" He doesn't reply, but the hard glint in his eyes is confirmation enough. "He is a former lover. You are my husband, Thorin, though at this moment, I am skeptical about the benefit of that."

"Then how fortunate Etele has come," says the dwarf, smiling bitterly. "Since you deem our union to be detrimental, perhaps he can whisk you back to Nemere."

"Take care what you suggest," Talaitha warns.

Thorin grasps her hips and pulls her to him. "I should forbid you to see him."

"And how would you do that?" she asks, brow arched. "Would you lock me away in the bowels of the mountain? Would you bind me? Chain me? _Mark_ me?"

"Do not tempt me," he murmurs, his voice deep and tinged with renewed lust.

Talaitha looks up at him with such disgust that Thorin drops his hands from her hips.

"You are not the dwarf I married."

And before he can stop her, she's out the door, leaving a chill and a silence in her wake.


	10. Part VII, Act II

You were all pretty divided about the last chapter. Some liked it, some didn't. Possessive Thorin isn't everyone's cup of tea, but besides being a request, I felt it was necessary. Thorin is far from perfect, and so is Talaitha, but how they handle their problems is what counts. And because I strive to keep their relationship believable, I cannot wholly abandon Thorin's innate jealousy. Just how he reacts to it. And I feel I must also clarify that he did not hurt her. He _would_ not. For the most part, especially when it comes to those he cares about, he is an honorable dwarf, and if Talaitha had pushed him away, he would not have had sex with her. So when I say "dubious consent," I mean the sex was sudden and shocking, and if Talaitha had had time, she might have hesitated. In the end, though, she went along with it. I don't condone non-consensual sex and would never write it.

Just4Me: Hopefully this chapter will resolve things, then. You're always quite honest in your reviews. XD

BeatofHisHeart: Lol, the claiming and marking are over now.

Knight's Queen: I hope you like this chapter, then, too!

Queen of Erebor: That's a diplomatic review if I've ever seen one. ;)

Undertaker's Wife: Yay!

LianaDare8: In a good way or a bad way, lol?

**Disclaimer:** I have a secret. *grins*

Enjoy!

* * *

**Part VII, Act 2: Secret**

Talaitha is gone the next day, having taken her clothes and weapons while Thorin was training with Dwalin. The guards posted along the balcony witness her departure but think little of it, for the queen often travels away from Erebor. If they find the pack tied to Szélvész's back unusual, they dismiss it in the belief that the king must surely be aware of his wife's comings and goings.

And Thorin does not need to ask in which direction she has ridden. There is only one path she would take.

To Dís', but not to Dwalin's, surprise, he does not follow. Let Talaitha take counsel with whomever she will. Let her leave him. If it is freedom she desires, he would give it to her. His sister calls him a fool, and Dwalin's raised brow suggests he agrees, but Thorin is stubborn. He will not chase after a woman who does not wish to be with him.

Yet as the days pass, his obdurate nature yields to emptiness and regret.

_You are not the dwarf I married. _The look of disgust on her face as she said that haunts him. It consumes his waking thoughts and transforms his dreams into nightmarish visions of madness and violence. He wonders if Talaitha was right, if the gold sickness _has_ returned. But when he stares at the mounds of gold in the treasury, he is not stirred.

Another kind of sickness, then. For he realizes he had to have been deranged to act as he did. He cringes when he remembers how roughly he'd taken her, as if she had been a common whore and not his queen. _I am not some livestock to be branded. _He is nauseated when, even now, he sees the bruises he'd marked her with.

Dís and Dwalin are wrong. He's worse than a fool. He's as vile as the brutish men who rape their women.

Thorin's stomach heaves, and he vomits into a bowl of dried petals on a nearby table.

#

A week later, he is galloping towards Mirkwood and forging into the dark forest more zealously than is befitting a dwarf. The elf guards who Thranduil has stationed along the path to his realm are conspicuously absent, though Thorin knows they are watching. The thought unnerves him, but he rides on. Soon, he reaches the borders of the underground city, and he is stopped.

"I confess I am surprised by your presence here, Dwarf King," says Legolas, motioning for one of the elves to take Thorin's pony. "Do you have business with my father?"

"You know why I am here," Thorin replies impatiently. He glances warily at the guards, but they appear disinterested in the interaction. "I need to see her."

The prince's blue eyes are cold. "She does not wish to see you. Go home."

Legolas turns to enter the cave but pauses when a small figure emerges for a second and ducks back inside.

"Why do you wish to see her?"

Thorin looks up, hopeful. "To speak with her, of course," he answers. The slight tremor in his voice is not lost on the elf. "To see her and speak with her."

Legolas glances at the entrance again, then says with his back to the dwarf, "Come."

Thorin follows the prince through the tunnels and up winding stairs until he's almost dizzy from them. Grudgingly, he marvels at the craftsmanship and wonders how the elves manage to make a cave feel like a forest. He prefers a cave to feel like a cave, of course, but he supposes this is the only way elves can live underground.

They stop before a door, and Legolas regards Thorin with a stony expression.

"Through there." The elf places a hand on his shoulder in warning. "The walls have ears."

Thorin arches a brow. "Really?"

"These do."

A threat. But the dwarf cannot bring himself to resent the prince for it. Thorin waits until Legolas has disappeared, for the elf does not need to be near to hear, and opens the door, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Talaitha stares at him, her face expressionless, and his fears nearly overwhelm him. She has not yet returned to Nemere, but that could be for many reasons that have nothing to do with him or their marriage.

"Talaitha," he says. And it sounds desperate even to his ears.

"Thorin," she responds coolly. He notices her arms are wrapped around her middle. Does she think he will take her against the wall again?

"You are radiant." And so she is.

"You've looked better," she says. He doesn't deny it. With his hair in tangles and the bruises beneath his eyes, he's sure he presents a pathetic image.

"I cannot sleep," he confesses, taking a cautious step towards her. When she doesn't retreat, he takes another and another, until he's only an arm's length away from her. "I cannot sleep."

"Apparently you also cannot eat," she observes, taking in his thinner frame.

Thorin reaches out to her but flinches at the cold glint in her eyes. He is starved for her touch, for her scent, more than he is starved for food or sleep.

"I cannot do many things without you."

For a split-second, Talaitha looks pained, then the indifferent mask reappears. "What's done is done, Thorin. Now we both have to live with the consequences."

Her arms tighten around her middle, before she sits, gesturing to the chair across from hers. He takes it, feeling too small on the furniture.

"And what are they?" he asks. "You return to Nemere and I to Erebor, and we never see each other again?"

"What do you expect, Thorin?" She sounds exasperated and weary. "Did you expect me to run into your arms?"

"Of course not," he snaps. "I do not know what I expected."

"What a surprise. Thorin Oakenshield came without a plan." Her sarcastic tone irritates him, for he knows she alludes to his failure against Smaug. And it hurts him, too.

"Well, since you don't know what to say, I'll speak." Talaitha crosses her legs underneath her and begins. "You are jealous of Etele, yes?" She takes his scowl as answer. "You have no reason to be. We were lovers a long time ago, but we were not _in_ love. Dwarves touch foreheads to show affection, the szelemér cheek-kiss."

"And you say you were not in love with Etele," Thorin mutters.

"Are you in love with Dwalin?" The dwarf looks down, chastised. "It is how friends greet each other among my people. You saw me do so with many szelemér in Nemere."

"They were not-"

"Male. I know." A shadow of a wry smile ghosts across her lips. "I do not condemn your jealousy. I can deal with that. But when you marked me," she says gravely. "_That_ I couldn't abide."

"I know."

"Possession is against my very _being_, Thorin." And she is so emphatic that Thorin nearly flinches. "The szelemér value freedom and equality above all else. I am not your inferior. I am not to be owned."

"I know," he says desperately. If his grandfather could see him now, he would be ashamed. But perversely, Thorin feels he has more dignity at this moment than he did the last time he saw Talaitha.

"Tell me why, then."

"I feared losing you." He falls to his knees and looks up at her. "I feared you would regret marrying me and that you would go back to Nemere."

"Then you do not know me very well," she says softly. "It is true I had misgivings but never about _you_."

Thorin bows his head, staring at the floral design on the carpet. "Until now."

Talaitha is silent for so long, watching him, that he believes he has truly lost her. But then he hears the rustle of her dress and feels her fingers lift his chin.

"Not even now."

He is wide-eyed when he meets her gaze, his breath hitching in his throat.

"Don't look so shocked, Thorin," she laughs. "I married you twice. That has to count for something."

He finally regains his composure and stands, looking down at her with the smallest smile. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yes," she replies, somber again. "But I cannot and will not forget. I love you, and I am willing to face troubles together, but I will _not_ tolerate such possessive behavior."

"I swear on my life, on Erebor, that you will never have to again." And he means it, even if he has to punch a wall to relieve his tension.

"Good, because I have a secret to tell you." She is smiling as she beckons him closer. "I am with child."

He straightens so quickly that he feels dizzy for a second. "You're..." he tries. "You're with...child? With _my_ child?"

"Yes," she says calmly, far too calmly. But then he supposes she's had longer to absorb the information.

"Mahal," he breathes and grins at Talaitha. "I'm going to be a father."

He pulls her up and into his arms, embracing her as tightly as he dares, and spins her around. Their laughter melds like a song, her giggles harmonizing with his deeper guffaws. Nothing, not even seeing Erebor glisten again, could compare to his happiness at this moment. He sends a silent thank you to Aulë and Yavanna for granting him a second chance with Talaitha. And by the Valar, he would not foul it up.

Outside the room, a blond elf descends the stairs, a satisfied smile on his fair face.


	11. Part VIII

Naturally, because I have a shit load of work to do, I chose to write this chapter instead. :D Procrastination only grows worse once you leave school. I know tomorrow I'll be kicking myself, but this was worth it.

I'm feeling much more friendly towards Talarin, and you guys are definitely partly why. So thank you, as always, for your interest and support. *hugs*

BeatofHisHeart: You kind of predicted the pregnancy, didn't you. ;)

Knight's Queen: Wow, Talarin has managed to sway you a bit from Mads. I'm impressed! I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you continue to enjoy this series. :)

Just4Me: *nods* Groveling was a must. Thorin will be better behaved from now on. Until I contrive a new obstacle. XD

kaia: I don't think dwarves are the fainting type. But they're surprised!

meganbuttorff: I'm glad you enjoyed it!

girl43: You know, when I wrote Thorin's jealous rage, I _did_ imagine how Richard would play it. I took a little inspiration from Guy and Lucas, though, since we've never seen Thorin react that way. I do think that was the last time he'll treat her that way, but they'll still argue over other things. However, I do believe fatherhood will mellow him a bit. XD

LianaDare8: Part of my fun as a writer is shocking you guys. Because then I get to read your reviews. ;)

**Disclaimer:** Fluff ahead.

Enjoy! :)

Also, a **note** on szelemér pregnancies. Since they're descended from elves, I wanted their biology to be similar. According to Tolkien (I have the source, if anyone's curious), elf gestation lasts a year, so I used that information as a springboard for szelemér pregnancies. However, as Talaitha will say, her pregnancy is different, so yeah...I'll be BSing as I go along. XD

* * *

**Part VIII: Bump**

Talaitha is beginning to show. The dwarves are beginning to talk. They're curious, and with good reason. Never before has there been a child of dwarven and szelemér parentage. Would the child grow a beard, like the dwarves? Or would the child be smooth-faced, like the fairies? The dwarves of Erebor have no idea what male szelemér look like, but the image most have in their minds resembles a smaller elf, possibly Thorin's height but definitely not with his build. And they transfer that image onto Talaitha's unborn child, sure that if it is a boy, he will look like an elfin Thorin. And if it is a girl, she will look like a dwarvish Talaitha.

When Dís overhears these theories in the market, she smiles to herself. Better the dwarves indulge in good-natured gossip than the criticism Talaitha had expected. Some dwarves opposed Thorin's union with Talaitha, but they were few to begin with and fewer still after Dáin had been stripped of his titles. Most had initially viewed Talaitha with cautious interest, but when they learned that she had rescued their king from death, it suddenly did not matter if she was not of their race.

"Are dwarvish babies born with beards?" Talaitha asks Dís one day, while they're baking bread.

"Kíli certainly wasn't," Dís replies with a laugh. "No, our babes are born smooth-cheeked and begin to grow facial hair around ten. Boys usually start earlier than girls, and some boys start later than others."

"I don't know anything," Talaitha confesses. Dís notices she's kneading the dough a little more vigorously than necessary. "Szelemér pregnancies last nearly a year, and dwarf pregnancies, nine months. But _this_," she gestures to her slightly distended stomach. "This is uncharted territory."

"You are a soul healer. Use what you know," Dís suggests. At Talaitha's blank look, she continues. "The child is within you. Do you feel it?"

"I feel its effects," the fairy says dryly.

"When I was pregnant with the boys, after the third month, I could feel them. I felt them grow. I felt their hiccups. I felt their kicks. I knew when they didn't like certain foods I ate. And I _really_ knew when they didn't like certain people I interacted with."

Talaitha raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Oh yes," the she-dwarf nods. "Kíli absolutely _hated_ one of the merchants in Ered Luin. Every time I would buy from him, he would throw a tantrum inside my belly. The nausea had passed after about three months, except when the merchant was nearby."

"That certainly sounds like Kíli," Talaitha laughs. But she sobers quickly. "I can feel life within me, but it's...vague."

"Touch it," Dís says softly. "The same way you touched Thorin and my sons. Then you will know it."

"It is too early for that, if this pregnancy is even remotely similarly to the ones I've witnessed."

Talaitha finishes shaping the abused dough into a loaf and slides it into the kiln. Dís places her loaf beside the fairy's and wipes her flour-dusted hands on her apron.

"Then when it is time, use your ability." The she-dwarf takes Talaitha's hands and squeezes them comfortingly. "You are a healer. All will be well."

Talaitha smiles at the older woman, grateful for the support. She longs for her mother, for her advice and safe embraces, but Dís is nearly as reassuring.

Later, after Talaitha has vomited up her dinner, Thorin is rubbing her back as she lies snuggled into his side. He's meant to be reading trade proposals from Rohan, but he can feel her warm breath against his thigh even through his breeches.

"How many times today?" he asks, looking down at his wife.

"Four," she mumbles. "I don't know why I bother eating. It just comes back up an hour later."

"My poor love." But he's smiling, and she knows it.

"This is your fault." She rolls onto her back to glare up at him. His smile widens. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Smiling."

He frowns. "Better?"

"Yes," she says, hiding her face against his thigh again. Her voice is slightly muffled as she continues, "Girl or boy?"

"Either." He tries not to smile. "You?"

"Same." She sighs, and he enjoys the warmth of it. "As long as the baby is healthy."

"Mmm." Thorin turns his attention back to the proposal, keeping one hand on Talaitha's back, but he is distracted by the tenseness in her muscles. Setting aside the paper, he leans over to massage her shoulders. "Tell me."

Talaitha doesn't ask for clarification.

"I'm afraid."

His thumb grazes her nape, and she shivers. "So am I."

She touches his thigh and begins to idly trace patterns on it with her finger. "Afraid of the pregnancy or of fatherhood?"

He is silent, considering, as her muscles slowly relax beneath his gentle hands. She waits patiently, feeling less and less anxious the longer he rubs her back.

"Of both," he finally answers. "I do not know what pregnancy is like for szelemér women, but it is difficult for dwarf women. But even that would be better, for then I would know what to expect. How does a child of both races develop?"

"I don't know," Talaitha says. "And that's why I'm afraid. What if...what if something goes wrong? What if dwarves and szelemér aren't meant to reproduce?"

Thorin feels her tense again, and he bends down to kiss her hair. "Of all the women in Middle-earth, you are probably the best-equipped for this pregnancy. You are a soul healer. If you can touch me, you can certainly touch the life growing within you."

Talaitha turns onto her back, smiling as her nose brushes Thorin's. "Dís said the same thing this morning."

"Well, we _are_ brother and sister," he says and kisses her lips. "But if you are concerned, why not write to the dark-haired elf?"

"Lord Elrond," Talaitha corrects, with an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, his name isn't that difficult to remember."

Thorin smirks, and she realizes he's teasing her.

"I already have." Thorin looks surprised. "I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd approve."

"If I can tolerate the Elf King and his son, I can tolerate Elrond," Thorin says wryly. "Especially if it will ease your worries."

"And yours," Talaitha adds.

"Aye, and mine." He kisses her again, and this time she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him on top of her.

When he relinquishes her mouth, she grins up at him mischievously. "I hear sex is very effective at keeping nausea at bay."

"Have you?" He arches a brow. "I would think that would exacerbate it."

"No," she shakes her head. "I would know, being a healer and all."

"Well then," he says lowly, kissing her neck. "I defer to your expert knowledge."


End file.
